Page 8 of Room for Three

A woman with long red hair hurries out, clutching her heavily pregnant belly. “Hi, guys. Sorry about that. We’re a little shorthanded tonight. Just the three of you?”

We nod and then follow her to a semi-private booth. I can tell this puts Cole on edge, so when he slides into the booth on one side, I sit down beside him.No young lady thigh touching on my watch either, sir!

He shoots me a grateful look as Savvy sits across from us.

“Can I offer you all some of our house wine—” the redhead starts before being rudely interrupted by Cole.

“She’s underage,” Cole bites out. “She’ll not be partaking.”

The woman’s eyebrows hike up, but she forces a polite smile. “Sorry. I’m usually in the back. It’s more of my husband’s thing to run the floor.”

“Forget about him,” I say to the woman, hoping to put her at ease. “He got shot at today.”

Savvy smirks at me and Cole curses under his breath.

“Stop telling everyone that,” he mutters. “Seriously, no one cares.”

“I care,” me, Savvy, and the redhead all say at once.

“Sheriff McMahon is a frequent patron and friend,” the redhead says. “I’m Vale Young. Do you work with him?”

Cole nods and then darts his eyes around as if looking for a menu. Vale chuckles and hands him a square card. “You use your phone to access the menu. I’m still trying to get used to it, but my husband says all the trendy places are doing it these days.”

Savvy’s humor fades because she doesn’t have a phone. Cole curses, this time much louder, in frustration.

“Maybe bring some water. And give us an order of your best appetizer to start?” I say to Vale. “Cole here doesn’t get out much. I’ll have his manners in check by the time you get back.”

Vale smiles gratefully to me and then waddles her pregnant self out of view. Before Cole has a meltdown, I use my phone to access the QR code to bring up the menu. Now I’m the one feeling nervous.

Did I say I’d pay?

What the hell does “market” mean beside the steak and seafood? It must be expensive if they don’t even list a price.

“Is there something wrong?” Savvy asks, stiffening.

If she knows how pricy this place is, she might freak out. But dinner for three of us is going to set me back. Thank God for credit cards.

“No, I was trying to figure out what ‘charred bone marrow’ was. Sounds disgusting.” I zoom in to read the description. “It doesn’t say what it is, just that it comes with sourdough bread and chimichurri. Anyone know what the hell chimichurri is?”

Cole and Savvy both shake their heads. I hope Vale brings us the ‘smoke & sugar’ wings and not the ‘charred bone marrow.’

“Do they have burgers?” Savvy asks, wide, innocent eyes boring into me.

No, little S, they have filet mignon and salmon and other bougie-ass foods we have no business eating.

“Sorry to disappoint,” I say instead, “but their house favorite is the truffle and herb chicken. Looks like it’s a slow-roasted chicken breast with truffle honey drizzle and crispy garlic.”

“I’ll take that,” she rushes out, clearly happy to be done with that. “And fries if they have them.”

“I’ll have steak,” Cole says. “A big one. I need it after today. Mashed potatoes too.”

Luckily for them, they have those items. Unluckily for me, the steak prices are a mystery but based on Savvy’s twenty-nine-dollar entree choice, I’m about to put a shiny dent on my credit card with this meal.

A man comes up to our table. He wears a friendly grin and seems much less frazzled than the woman.

“Hello,” the man says. “My wife told me you guys are first timers. I’m Aiden Blakely-Young, owner of Smoke & Sugar.”

He must be loaded with what the prices are here.

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